


Heart Beating

by Sweetdreamz3



Category: 1D - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 22:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11389614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetdreamz3/pseuds/Sweetdreamz3





	Heart Beating

Niall doesn't speak the whole way up to their floor of the HOTEL, stroppy and not at all sorry about it because Louis deserves the silent treatment and worse. Obviously Niall's upset that he won't be able to have sex tonight, but even more than that, Nadia was a nice girl and he hates being rude to hook-ups. It's bad form in general, plus she could tell anyone anything at any moment, and Niall's nothing if not obsessively discreet.

Louis walks past the door to his suite and goes straight to Niall's, shoes inexplicably in his hand and socked feet padding on the plush carpet of their deserted hallway. "What are you doing?" Niall asks, resolve withering. He presses his lips together in a tight line, squares his shoulders.

Louis just raises his eyebrows and gestures impatiently at the keycard slot. Niall's shoulders slump again and he slips the card out of his wallet. He lets them both in, something heavy and sudden in his stomach at the smell of Louis's hairspray and cigarettes as he follows Niall inside. Louis doesn't say anything, and Niall won't give him the satisfaction of asking twice. He goes over to the minibar and uncaps an orange juice, slugs half of it thirstily, then empties one of the little bottles of vodka into it. He recaps it and shakes it up, deliberately looking anywhere but at Louis. He slides his phone out of his pocket with his other hand while he's shaking his screwdriver, thumbing through Instagram like he would if he were here alone, trailing pop-up hearts behind every scroll.

Louis's sharp, coiling presence is radiating irritation from the direction of the bed. If it were any other time, he'd be with Zayn right now, the two of them smoking up and annihilating each other in Dark Souls II. Niall feels displaced, one more step than he thought in the staircase. After he takes a healthy gulp of his drink, he lets himself look over. Louis's socked feet are dangling by the dust ruffle, and he's propped up against the headboard, staring at Niall, one hand clutched over his thigh. Niall freezes in his gaze like a deer. "Kind of boring, aren't you?" Louis says eventually, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow.

Niall curls his lip. "Why are you being such a fucking cunt, Tomlinson?" he asks, hands in fists by his sides.

Louis oohs theatrically. "Get you," he says, and pulls his legs up onto the bed, hugging his knees. "That time of the month, is it?"

"You scared off my date, you forced your way in here, and now you're just sitting there taking the piss. We were havin' the craic, Louis, and you just shat all over it for no reason. You're fuckin' unbelievable."

Louis laughs, but it doesn't sound happy at all. "First class ruiner, I am," he says, sarcastically, but Niall can feel him believe it. The fight starts trickling out of him, always tuned to Louis's self-pity.

"Why are you here?"

Louis shrugs. "Beth bailed on me. I was bored. Thought we could have a laugh. We have a laugh, don't we?" His eyes are wide, and Niall's answer feels like the most important thing in the world.

"'Course we do, Tommo," Niall says. He shuffles over to the bed and sits in the middle, where Louis's legs are drawn up, so his side brushes the bones of Louis's shins. He props his arm up on Louis's knees and his chin on top of his own forearm, elbowing straight into Louis's space. Zayn is gone. It echoes around in his head and makes him soft, makes him realise. Makes him want to fill Louis's spaces.

"Are we having a laugh now?" One of Louis's knuckles nudges at Niall's palm where his hand lies limp in the air between them.

"I dunno, are we?" Niall asks, barely above a whisper as the air conditioning switches off and the room is dead silent. His heart pounds.

"I don't think so," Louis says. He pushes his knuckles up into Niall's palm until they're holding hands, somehow, and Niall's mouth goes dry. Louis pulls him in, until Niall's chest is pressed against Louis's knees and they're sharing breaths, tips of their noses touching and foreheads bent together.

The room is spinning, but everything is completely still as well, like a movie where the main character can stop time and walk around inside of it, looking at the same couple kissing on a park bench from three-hundred and sixty degrees. "What are you doing?" Niall asks, willing his mouth to move. The bright numbers on the clock beside the bed read 4:37.

"Having a laugh," Louis says, lips brushing against Niall's. He kisses him then, and Niall can't even process it. It feels like nothing, numb mouths and Louis's hair tickling Niall's temples, his hands clammy on his jaw and the back of his neck. Niall kisses back, though, every ounce of life in him surging to the surface, thrumming through him until he can clutch at Louis, open his mouth and taste his cigarettes over the tang of the screwdriver. The room is near-frigid but he's burning up, every drunk inch of him sweating and shivering up into goosebumps at the same time. He's wanted guys before, but never as much as he's wanted Louis.

Louis slips him tongue and Niall has the sudden sick urge to laugh. He doesn't, though, just takes it in, licks at Louis's teeth and pulls back, teasing. Louis hums under his breath and Niall reads it as a victory, anything at all to keep this going longer, to keep Louis interested enough, to make him want to see a whim through for once. It's a game to Niall, the only way he can think of it without losing himself, without showing his hand, without seeming pathetic.

He just never thought it could happen at all, let alone like this. A shift in a HOTEL bed, a little drunk but still conscious. Louis orchestrated it all, Niall's just along for the ride, and it's a fire in his heart he has to bank or he'll go mad.

Louis straightens his legs into a vee and he pulls Niall closer, hitching him up with a little grunt that makes Niall's dick twitch in his jeans. "Jesus," he murmurs, lips mashed against Louis's, glad they're both clean-shaven or the stubble burn would be a tale to tell. He's hard, there's no getting around it, and Louis is going to know. Niall loses track of time, everything narrowed to kissing Louis. Niall's thighs are jammed awkwardly under his, and the fact that Niall's leg is falling asleep brings him out of it. They're breathing heavy through their noses like they've been snogging for hours.

Niall slants his eyes towards the clock on the nightstand. They've been at it for two hours and eighteen minutes, in fact. It's light outside, early morning showing at the edges of the heavy curtains.

"Got somewhere to be?" Louis asks, voice raked over gravel but high in the back of his throat, breathed out.

Niall shakes his head, can't help the smile on his face. He noses at Louis's throat and kisses him there, trying not to overdo it. He needs to taste him, to revel in being so close, so free to touch. His cock rubs heavily against his flies, hot and insistent. "Louis," he says, but no words come after it.

Louis slides a hand down between Niall's thighs. Niall hisses and tenses, biting back a whine. "Don't need girls after all, do we?" Louis says, barely audible, lips shaping the words against Niall's ear more than speaking them. He palms Niall's cock, and Niall's cheeks heat. He wouldn't have thought Louis had ever done this before, but if he has, that means Niall has something to live up to, like his cock could be too small or he could be bad at this in a way he doesn't even understand.

"Guess not," he manages, and Louis turns them over, still with the heel of his hand rubbing firm and constant over Niall's dick. He doesn't care that he's a substitute for a girl, he doesn't care that he could be anyone.

"Niall," Louis breathes, a hint of a smile curling at the corner of his mouth as he kisses Niall again. Niall's heart clenches, and he rethinks everything, kisses back with his fingers tight around Louis's shoulders. Louis fumbles with Niall's jeans until he can get a hand on him, and Niall gasps wetly at the feel of Louis's sweaty palm slipping in the slick oozing over his foreskin.

"Christ," Niall says, bitten off, and pushes up into Louis's hand. He can't help it, and he looks like an idiot, but Louis's eyes are hungry and half-lidded anyway. He wanks Niall like he's done it before, though Niall's foreskin is tight and Louis fumbles with it at first. Niall swallows thickly, self-conscious, but somehow it just makes everything sharper, makes him feel more split open and sensitive when Louis touches him, looks at him. Breathes him in. Niall wants to ask Louis to kiss him again but he's scared to, so he closes his eyes and puts his own hand over his mouth instead.

"Look at me, why doncha," Louis says, and his voice shakes, not just from the motion of his hand fast and sure on Niall. Niall opens his eyes and Louis is staring back at him, mouth slack and sweat at his temples. He looks unreal, and Niall trails his hands over Louis's cheekbones, brushing the wisps of his sideburns behind his ears. He doesn't care that it's probably weird, just has to make it feel real for himself as his thighs tense and he fucks into Louis's hand.

"I'm gonna—" he starts, and Louis smiles. Not a smirk, a real smile, and it hurts to look at. He ducks down and Niall can't even register what's happening before Louis's mouth is on him, tonguing at his slit and slurping inexpertly down the whole length of Niall's dick. Niall whines, cringes at what he sounds like but can't focus on anything but the feel of Louis's mouth for long. It's wet and hot and the slide of his tongue under Niall's foreskin makes his entire body buckle. "Louis, no, I'm—" He comes with a panting keen, his whole body shuddering and thighs spread where Louis is pushing them apart, leaning his whole bodyweight against Niall. He sucks on Niall's spent dick as Niall's head spins and he tries to push Louis away, hurting from oversensitivity, trying to cling to the euphoric feeling of that orgasm.

"Mmph," Louis says, loath to let Niall push him back. "Alright, Nialler?" he asks, and this time he's smirking, voice shredded.

Niall nods and reaches out to grab at Louis's waist, to bring him closer, to kiss him hard. He closes his hand into a loose fist before he can embarrass himself, though, just grazing Louis's hip with the backs of his fingers. "What—"

"No questions, no questions," Louis says, waving Niall away with a dismissive hand gesture, like he's a fly or a persistent fan. Niall pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs his arms around them. He shrugs, head spinning, still half-delirious with afterglow yet so self-conscious he'd rather melt into the bed if he could manage it.

*  
It's painful, and Niall reaches across the table without really thinking, instinct to fix it WINNING out over reason in the moment. He curls a finger under Louis's chin and kisses him. Louis huffs a surprised breath through his nose, pulling away after a moment, lip-smacking sound of the kiss breaking absurd in the muzzy silence of the camper. "Sorry," Niall says, sitting back in his seat, suddenly sure they're not allowed to do this when they're not falling-down drunk, when they don't have an anonymous hotel room and blackout curtains as an excuse.

Louis shakes his head, and Niall's heart falls at first. But Louis half stands up, just enough to pull the shade of the WINDOW next to the table before cupping his hands around the sides of Niall's neck under his ears, kissing him again, properly this time. Niall lets the back of his head thunk against the thin wall of the nook in the caravan, and Louis trails his hands down to Niall's wrists, his slender fingers fitting around the skinny knobs of them perfectly.

Niall hisses a fast breath through his nose as Louis pushes Niall's arms up, palms pressing Niall's wrists to the wall with a thump on either side of his head, elbows bent and chest opened up. Louis pulls back, tip of his nose all that's touching Niall besides his hands on his wrists. His smile is real but a little shaky, and Niall tilts his chin up, trying to capture Louis's lips without moving off the wall, but they just end up nuzzling noses instead. Niall laughs until Louis cuts him off with another kiss, deep and then soft, pulling back so Niall can't reach him every time Niall's about to sink into it and taste him.

"It's three PM," Niall says, eyes wide. He won't be able to take it if Louis realises what they're doing in the middle of it and leaves him here. "There's people out there."

"Yeah, on the other side of two dozen security," Louis says, quiet. Niall swallows. "There's a bed right there, you know." He nods his head to the back room, the queen mattress, the thick duvet. "Not your mum's caravan. Only the best for us now."

Niall nods, wants to twist his wrists in Louis's grip to feel the clench of his fingers but doesn't want to risk him letting go. "What about it?" he asks, sliding his legs apart on the seat, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest, ears hot.

"C'mon," Louis says, and that's all it takes. They're both up and out of the kitchenette, down again in the middle of the big-enough bed with frantic hands and heavy breaths. It's broad daylight, only a little dimmed by the drawn shades, and seeing Louis in full daylight colour as he kicks out of his black skinnies is almost too much. He doesn't always talk when they do this, but he's talking now—"Been thinking about this," Louis says. "Kept looking at you during "Move Together". Christ, Nialler." He sounds rough, wrecked already.

Louis's hard already, too, and Niall grabs at him, pulls their bodies flush together as soon as they're naked, feeling utterly exposed in a strange place, the hot burn of knowing there are people outside the camper scaring the shit out of him even as he can't get enough of Louis's dick sliding in the hollow of his hip.

He's on his back, one leg bent so Louis can SLOT against him, warm and smooth, belly pressed tight to Niall's cock as they shift together, and it's like he can't possibly get close enough. Something in Niall is desperate still, wants more, anything he can get. "Fuck me," he breathes into Louis's mouth, hands tight around Louis's sides, fingers slotted between his ribs.

Louis pulls back, holding still, and licks his lips. "Yeah?" Niall nods, bringing his calf up to pull at the back of Louis's thigh, the air close and hot between them. They've never done this before, Niall's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. Maybe that's part of it. "God," Louis says, and kisses Niall again, a hand spread over his hip, thumb digging in at the soft fold into his inner thigh.

He leans back to look through the little cabinets built into the wall either side of the bed, but there's nothing in them except for Kleenex and a mini travel bottle of Nivea. He grunts, frustrated, and gets up with one hand over his stiff prick to check in the tiny bathroom. "Fuck," Niall hears from the other side of the caravan, and a thump.

"Come back," he calls, heart racing. He brings his other knee up, starts wanking himself slowly. He's cold without Louis there, untethered without the weight of his body holding Niall down. He doesn't want to think, and with the muffled sounds of Louis in the other room it's all too easy.

Louis peers around the doorjamb, face stormy. "I can't find any fucking condoms," he says, like it's the end of world.

"I don't care," Niall says, belly clenching and knees knocking together softly with the sudden tensing of his thighs around his hand. "Forget it. Don't need one."

"What d'you want to do instead?" Louis asks, kneeing up onto the bed, hands parting Niall's thighs again and making him shiver.

"No, I mean—" Niall starts, then swallows thickly. He meets Louis's eyes and holds them for what feels like an eon, his pulse thudding in his throat. "Fuck me, no condom. It's fine."

Louis's fingers slide up his legs, tighten on Niall's knees, rubbing up and down Niall's scar, over and over, like the slick rope of it is soothing under the pad of his thumb. Niall can't feel it but for the trembling in the surrounding skin. He holds his breath. "Are you sure?" Louis asks, just a whisper.

"Yeah," Niall says. "Should I be worried?"

"No," Louis murmurs, barely audible.

Neither of them move at first, but then they both jerk into motion, Niall going for the lotion and Louis going for the pillows, and it might be funny if it didn't feel like falling off a cliff, every sense heightened and the yawning pull of something huge swallowing Niall from the pit of his stomach to the top of his quiff.

"C'mon," Niall says, situated and ready with lotion in his palm, heating it up. Louis crawls close, the closest he's ever been. Niall wanks him slowly with the lotion, pulls him in gently by the dick to snog him, deep and hot, until he can feel Louis's shoulders shivering, just the barest amount, where he's pressed to Niall's body.

Niall's about to finger himself open when Louis spits, "No," catching him by the wrist. "Sorry," he says, softer. "I just—will you let me?"

That Louis asks like that makes Niall's chest warm. He nods, pressing his lips together, keeping in the smile. He digs his fingers into Louis's hair and grips tight instead, giving it to him that way. Louis slicks up his fingers and presses Niall open, and even though he's done it plenty by now, Niall will never get used to it. He gasps and closes his eyes, thighs spreading and hips tilting to take Louis in without even having to think about it. Louis makes a rough noise, mouth open and breathing hot against Niall's neck as he twists a second finger in, feeling along Niall's insides until Niall whimpers, the tips of Louis's fingers rubbing into that spot that makes his lower back bow and his hips open like a slut.

"Nngh, yeah," he moans, and claps a hand over his mouth after he does it, embarrassed. He sounds whiny, desperate. Louis pinches at his nipples with his free hand, fucking into him still with his other fingers.

"No one's gonna hear you," he says, voice smiling, and pulls Niall's hand away from his mouth.

Louis obviously isn't thinking about the fact that Louis can hear him. Niall nods and shoves up into Louis's fingers. "Fuck me, Louis," he murmurs, and Louis breathes in sharp through his nose and clenches tight on Niall's thigh, fingers digging in hard, ragged nails catching a bit against his sensitive skin.

"I will if you look at me," Louis says, voice wavering a bit, tucking a third finger up inside Niall, curling them gently.

Niall opens his eyes, blinks a little in the light of the caravan—he'd forgotten that it was mid-afternoon, that even with the shades drawn it was light in here, that Louis would be looking at him, all of him. He shivers. "Hi," he says. "I'm lookin' at you."

"I see that," Louis says, and he grabs his dick, pulling at it a few times like he can't help it while Niall watches, wide-eyed, splayed out with Louis's fingers in him.

"So that's my end held up," Niall says, but it's soft, lingers on his lips.

"Always was a man of my word," Louis says, and shuffles closer, pulling out his fingers to replace with the bare head of his dick, warm and smooth. Niall holds his breath at first, then breathes out as he bears down when Louis sinks into him.

"Oh," Niall says, drawing it out, not even thinking what he sounds like. "Oh fuck." It feels more intense that he ever imagined it would, but better.

"Okay?" Louis asks, tight. He pushes in the last bit before his hips are pressed to the back of Niall's thighs. "Look at me, you gotta—you gotta keep looking at me, Niall—"

Niall pops his eyes open, didn't even realise they'd slid shut, so overwhelmed with the feeling of Louis's dick in him, bare, the thrum of Louis's pulse that Niall can feel all through the core of him. "Sorry, sorry Lou—" Niall pulls him in by the back of the neck to kiss him while he's fully seated, wrapping his legs around his back as well he can, feeling them meld together closer than he's ever been with any other person. "I'm okay. I'm so—fuck. It's so good. Why haven't we done this before."

Louis doesn't answer since it wasn't really a question, just kisses Niall back. "You—it feels—" He doesn't finish the sentence, either, but Niall gets the idea when Louis pulls out and fucks back into him, then again, and again, the noise he makes filthy and half-delirious when Niall presses up into it and tightens around him.

Niall keens when Louis slips a bit on the duvet, shifting them just right so he's thudding into that perfect spot every time he fucks into Niall. He stays like that as long as he can, though the muscles stand out in his arms and chest and it's clear it's a struggle. Niall gets a hand down between them, missing his own dick to feel at where Louis is disappearing inside of him, no condom, just the obscene squelch of lotion and precome and the hot pull of skin. He's always loved Louis fingering him, but it's nothing like this.

He moans, and tilts his face up for a kiss, eyes open as Louis grants him one and allows himself to relax for a second. Niall gets a calf pressed against Louis's arse, holding him in as he wriggles on the bed into a better position, hips up and open on a displaced pillow. It's better for both of them and after Louis starts up again, thrusting with the slick smack of skin on skin, Niall isn't sure he can last much longer.

"Louis," he breathes, "gonna—I can't—" there's nothing but white noise and the feel of Louis inside him, then. Louis's mouth on his chest and neck, Louis's eyes when Niall's able to see anything at all. He reaches down to get himself off but Louis grabs his hand, holds it.

"Me too," he pants. "Let's—let's try and do it together." It'd be a laugh, goes without saying. Niall just entwines their fingers together, doesn't have the capacity to do anything else. He grits his teeth and tries not to come as Louis rabbits into him, erratic and so deep Niall's head thumps against the one pillow between him and the wall of the caravan. The pull in his pelvis is so strong, so consuming, he's sure he's going to lose it before Louis—but then Louis starts to moan, high in his throat, and he barely touches Niall's straining cock. Niall lets go, finally, and Louis pumps into him as he orgasms. Come clings slick and wet around Louis's dick where it's shoving in and out of Niall, wads of it dripping into him, and Niall can feel it, the filthy smear of it, trickling down inside him, warm and thick.

"Christ," he says, blinking open his eyes, staring into Louis's face. He shifts his hips up, follows Louis's dick as he makes to pull out. "No, no—stay," he says, and closes his eyes again. It's disgusting but it feels so good, something so satisfying about the lewd squelching noise, the hot trickle of it. "Oh my god."

"Oh my god," echoes Louis, SLOTTING comfortably against Niall with the pillows underneath them. He settles in, and they miss the rest of the performances that day.

*

Louis nods and gives Niall's hand a squeeze.

"If you chicken out," he murmurs, lips almost to Niall's ear, hand warm and tight around Niall's still, "there's a forfeit." Niall's chest swoops and his dick twitches uncomfortably. He's not sure if he's more or less likely to show up with the ridiculous costume in hand, now.

*

It's a bit after nine PM by the time Niall slips into VIP parking at the Soho HOTEL, tucked well out of view of any errant paparazzi. He's been tweeting nothing but the usual sorts of tweets all day, all week even, and there's no reason anyone would expect him to be here. He's up to Louis's suite in less than five minutes, garment bag slung over his shoulder, Louis's room key tucked in his hand.

He lets himself in rather than knocking, and it's not immediately clear where Louis is. Niall goes straight to the bathroom from the main entrance without investigating. He hangs the garment bag on the back of the door and tries not to laugh, taking deep breaths instead. He shakes his head as he shucks off his clothes and boot and stands naked in front of the mirrored wall over the sink.

He's still so skinny, no different at all, really, to anyone else's eyes. Spindly legs, noodly arms, just enough chest hair to save face. He turns around, looks over his shoulder at his bum, not as flat as it once was thanks to Mark's Prussian squat routines. His thighs have a bit of meat on them now, too, but he's still got the thigh gap Amy used to tease him about all the time. "I should Instagram you in my leggings," she'd say. "Crop everything else out. I'd be an internet sensation, people thinking I had your gams."

With a smile, he unzips the bag and looks over what he managed to filch from the wardrobe rack. He's got what he's pretty sure is one of Jade's tops, a cage-looking leather thing with laces that should mean Niall can loosen the bottom of it enough around his ribs so it'll fit. Under that he's got a lacy white mini skirt, which had a pair of weird satiny shorts with it. Niall figured they were meant to allow dancing in such a tiny skirt without any major telly censorship issues. He left those back on the rack. He tried to pick things he thought he could get on himself and which would allow easy access, just in case Louis managed to stop laughing long enough to want to fool around a bit.

Instead of copping any of the boots the girls wear—the least likely of any of it to fit him, honestly—he grabbed a funny little cloth bag with what turned out to be a pair of shoes folded up inside it. Just little black slipper things, sequinned but stretchy, and they do fit over his feet. Those are easy to pull on, and so, embarrassingly, is the skirt. It fits him almost too well, just enough hips and bum to keep it taut, dick hanging well out of the way of the pull of it across his front. It only goes down to about mid-thigh properly, the lace hanging a bit lower to skim the top of his scar.

Getting the top on is more of a challenge, but he manages, glad that Jade has a reasonable A cup so it doesn't look too gapey and weird against his chest. It smells good, like horse tack, and Niall focuses on that, on the feel of it against his skin, instead of letting himself glance in the mirror and back out at the last second when he sees what a prat he looks like. Never let it be said that he wouldn't do any-fucking-thing for Louis Tomlinson. He ignores how hairy he feels, and how clumsy, as he shrugs on a robe and pulls it closed over the whole mess.

He follows the soft HOTEL light down to the second bedroom, the one Louis always prefers, red and grey and white. The closer he gets the weirder he feels, so he starts humming "Black Magic"—it's just floating there in his mind, and he grabs it. He sings a bit, then another bit, and soon he's crooning the whole tune to himself as he shimmies out of the robe and hobbles into Louis's room like it's just another nightly round of poker.

"Shit," Louis says, looking up from his phone. He's curled at the end of the couch, the wooly blanket from the back of it pulled round himself all the way up to his neck. It only takes a split second for his startled eyes to crinkle up, and he laughs, bright and happy.

Niall smiles back at him at first, but then starts to wilt a bit, not sure what he's meant to do besides stand there and be ridiculed. "Alright, then," he mumbles, but Louis's waving a hand at him.

"No, no, Niall, this is brilliant, I can't believe you did it—fuckin' 'ell. C'mere, let's have a look at you." He flaps his hand harder, shoves the blanket off and sits up, phone face down on the end table. He's lit up, animated, not foggy with booze or smoking or anything. Niall feels fully looked-at, Louis twinkling up at him, and he's blushing all over, he's sure of it. With so little on, Louis will see it, too.

He's hyper aware of his belly, of course, in the crop-top and the tight stretch of the skirt. His shoulders feel too broad and his chest too narrow, like he's a clown standing there in a jumpsuit.

Louis has a hand out, so Niall takes it and lets Louis pull him up flush with the edge of the sofa between his legs. "You're a thief," Louis says, giddy. "Whose are these?"

"Uh," Niall says, casting around for something that's words. "Top's Jade's, bottom's—Perrie's? Shoes were just sitting in a bin thing, dunno about those."

"Give us a spin," Louis says, tugging on Niall's hand until he turns around. It's a relief to stop sucking in quite so much for a second. Louis stops him turning with a tap to his bum. "That's enough." He laughs again, bubbly and sweet, hands grasping tight around Niall's hips, fingertips rubbing in the lace, and Niall wants to melt into the floor. He's about to get hard, and he'd never live it down. "Why'd you pick these, then?"

"I could get into 'em, I thought," Niall starts. Then, tentatively, "And—out of 'em."

Louis makes a pleased, curious sort of hum and spins Niall around the rest of the way with his hands on his waist. Niall hisses when he steps on the bones in his foot wrong, and Louis's face falls. "Shit, shit, I'm sorry," he says, and rushes to get Niall down on the couch next to him. "Fuck, I'm a wanker, have I cracked the whole thing back open?"

Niall laughs through the sting of pain and shakes his head, trying to maneuver on the couch with his foot in the air and an arm clutched around his middle, plus the top digging into him and everything just generally a shambles. "I'll live," he manages, and pushes Louis's fussing hands off him.

It's stupidly clear, in that moment, that Niall is in love with him—completely in love with him, and that he has been for ages now. It seems like he could tell him, maybe. He could do just about anything right then.

Louis tilts himself towards Niall on the couch and kisses him, tasting like minty gum and smelling like HOTEL shampoo. "Hey," he says, and Niall just raises his eyebrows, keeps kissing. "I quite like it, you know."

Niall laughs, just a little, smiling as he says, "Do you really? I feel like an utter gobshite."

Louis looks a bit pink himself. "Are you—" He doesn't finish his sentence, just slides a hand up Niall's tiny skirt, straight between his legs, slow and maybe even tentative. Niall holds his breath as Louis grazes his dick, the hot space between his thighs.

"Nngh," Niall says, as Louis exhales, shaky and low.

"The answer to that would be no," Louis says, and Niall wriggles a bit, spreading his legs and feeling the lace slide up his hips as he does.

"Is that good?" Niall asks, pushing up into Louis's hand, dick fattening up as the two of them curl together, breathing each other's air between kisses.

"It's good," Louis murmurs against the corner of Niall's mouth. "Developed a taste for the slutty ones, I think."

Niall shivers at that, sure Louis can feel it when he kisses him. Niall's knocked up against all laws of god and nature because of what a slut he is for Louis. It's a sick thrill in his gut, in the hot line of his cock. He makes a sound in the back of his throat and pushes away.

Once the doctor's gone, Louis hits a button on the side of the exam table to raise the end of it on a diagonal, so Niall can lean back comfortably. "Thanks," he breathes, staring still at the empty monitor.

"Niall," Louis says, adjusting his grip on Niall's hand. "It's real. Like—there's. You're literally actually fucking pregnant."

"I know," Niall says. "I did tell you that, to be fair."

"Twins," Louis says. He puts his palms on Niall's cheeks, fingers scritching through Niall's hair. "Two." Niall nods. "And they're—I did that." Niall nods again. "My babies. In you."

"I'd say they're mine, at this point, but—"

Louis kisses him hard, leaning over the exam table, chest to chest, hands pushing into Niall's hair, gripping at him. "Is this okay," he gasps, and Niall just nods, wrapping his arms around Louis's back, any excuse to get him closer. "Christ," Louis says, "I got you pregnant, Niall. I fucked you raw in that caravan and you were just so—fuck. D'you remember it? I still think about it all the time, how you felt, the way you looked when I came in you, the way you held me in after."

Niall laughs into his mouth, trying and failing to pull him up on the table too, to get a better angle. "Do I remember it? Louis, god, I've wanked off to it probably every day since."

"And now this. That made this," he says, hand pushing up under Niall's stupid hospital gown to cup his belly. "I put those in you," barely a whisper against Niall's ear. "Filled you right up, so much there's two of them."

Niall groans, and Louis manages to get up onto the table, Niall's thighs splayed around him. Niall's boot smacks into the end of the table and it rings out, loud and metallic. Louis laughs into his hand and Niall tries to sit up without shoving the both of them off onto the floor. "Shh, hang on," Louis says, and slides off the end of the table, pulling out the stirrups and unfolding them. Niall just watches as Louis grabs his boot and plunks it in one of them. "There," he says. Niall draws his other leg up, slips his other foot in the second stirrup.

"Are we playing doctor?" he asks, laughing but shaky. Louis just pushes back up his body, kissing him and nuzzling at his neck, a hand rubbing over his belly. "I'm gonna get fat," he murmurs, and Louis squeezes his side.

"Yeah, 'cause you're full of my babies." Niall should laugh, but he doesn't, just makes a muffled sound in the back of his throat, dick twitching awkwardly between them. His whole body feels hot from the inside out. He blushes hard, turning to look at the canisters of tongue depressors. Louis feels it, hitching their hips together. "Shh, hey, me too," he says, curling a finger under Niall's chin. Niall pushes up with his feet in the stirrups, knees bent and legs spread, nothing but the hospital gown on over his pants, and feels utterly filthy. His dick is straining and wet already, and he'll die if he doesn't come.

"Louis," he says, clutching at Louis's biceps.

"What?" Louis asks, stopping completely still. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just—fuck me." His eyes are wide and his thighs are shaking, but he's never wanted anything more.

"Here?" Louis says in a shocked stage-whisper. "Now?"

"Well, you don't have to obviously, but I th—"

Louis lunges for the drawer with the ultrasound lube in it before Niall can even finish his sentence. "I can't believe this is happening. Any of this. Who the hell are you, Niall Horan. Best thing that ever happened to me, I fucking swear." He kisses Niall on the way back up, fumbling with the cap on the jelly.

"You don't need a condom," Niall says, grinning as he wriggles his non-booted leg out of his pants, which he's regretting putting back on, now. They're smeary-wet and in the way.

"Didn't think I needed one the first time, did we," Louis says, laughing as he smears the gel on his cock, like he can't even tell it's cold, or doesn't care. "Now look where we are. If you get more pregnant from this," Louis says, shaking his head as he leans down to finger Niall open, practiced and perfect, "it's your own fault."

"I am a bit of a slut," Niall laughs, but it turns into a moan as Louis presses a third finger into him.

"You're a slut and I'm a pervert," Louis says, scootching up the table, one hand on Niall's raised leg as he lines himself up. "Match made in heaven." He fucks into Niall with a sharp thrust, and Niall's teeth clack together as he gasps.

"Oh god," Niall whispers. Louis doesn't draw it out; they don't know when or if the doctor will be back, although he'll knock first at least. The stirrups and the incline of the table put Niall at a distressingly perfect angle, and he's already so turned on he's gripping at the back of Louis's shirt and biting down on a mouthful of it to keep from crying out after five minutes. He's never felt so full, Louis's dick slick with medical lube, prying him open and hitting him so deep he's seeing stars. And Louis's babies in his belly, Louis's mouth on his skin, Louis's hands clutching his sides, sliding up to pull at his nipples. Everything feels too sensitive, too much. "Louis, I'm—" Louis doesn't even get his hand down between them before Niall's coming, nothing touching his dick, just the relentless weight of Louis fucking into him.

He grits his teeth together as he comes, whining instead of sobbing with it. The stirrups rattle as his legs try to draw up, and he wraps his arms tighter around Louis, back arching and hips working to fuck himself down on Louis's dick through the last of it, or as best he can pressed to the exam table. He's coming all over the inside of the hospital gown, and he doesn't even care.

"Oh, Jesus," Louis says, voice wrecked. "Niall." He starts to pull out, but Niall grabs his hips, the sag of his jeans where they're pushed down. Louis groans and pumps into him instead, forehead tucked against Niall's shoulder as he loses it, creams him again in the low light of the exam room, ultrasound gel slippery between Niall's arsecheeks and smeared over his inner thighs. Niall pushes into it, feels every flex of Louis's dick around the wads of come.

They're a messy heap by the time Niall's stopped shivering through aftershocks, but it hasn't even been twenty minutes since the doctor left them.

"Fuck, I have to—we have to clean this all up," Louis says, pulling out as gently as he can. Niall makes an unhappy noise. "I have to clean it up. I think you've done quite enough, to be fair."

Niall doesn't argue, just gets himself out of the stirrups and onto the floor, hobbling around to get himself dressed and the gown discreetly stuffed at the bottom of the laundry bin in one of the cabinets. He's sitting on the couch, feeling the slick dribble of come and lube in him still, sickly pleased, when Louis finishes putting everything to rights. He flumps down next to him on the couch, and after a moment, the backs of his fingers stray to Niall's belly, stroking softly, almost absently.

"I guess we should—go, then," Niall says, loath to break the moment. He looks at Louis and he can't keep the wicked smile off his face, though. "I seriously can't believe that just fucking happened. Any of it."

"C'mon, Nialler, your chariot awaits."


End file.
